You’re standing outside the Charms classroom, your bag slung over one shoulder, chatting idly with Cedric as students begin to trickle into the corridor.

It’s nothing special—just school talk. You’re both complaining about homework, trying to figure out whether FIitwick is going to spring another surprise quiz, and whether McGonagaIl is secretly amused by her students or just constantly exasperated.

“You know she gave a kid detention for sneezing in Transfiguration? Apparently, she thought he was faking it to stall,” Cedric says, shaking his head.

You laugh, adjusting your grip on your bag. “She’s terrifying. I swear, if I ever accidentally cough, I’m just going to hold my breath and pray she doesn’t—”

But you don’t finish your sentence.

Because suddenly, warm fingers cradle your face, tilting it up—and before you can blink, someone kisses you.

The shock hits first, a sudden rush of adrenaline. Then your senses kick in all at once.

The smell.

Smoke, toffee, and just a hint of pumpkin spice—like he’s been too close to the kitchens and a firecracker at the same time. Your pulse stutters. You know exactly who it is.

George WeasIey

The kiss is bold and confident, one hand stays on your cheek as his other hand is cradling the back of your head like he’s anchoring you to him. Your breath catches at the firm press of his lips and the gentle tug of his mouth against yours. When he finally pulls back, your forehead rests against his.

“Hi,” he says, voice low and teasing. His thumb brushes across your cheek. “Am I interrupting?”

Cedric clears his throat beside you. “Actually—”

George turns his head to flash Cedric a grin. “Don’t care.”

Cedric’s eyes flick from you to George, surprise flitting across his face, and then he smooths his robes. “Right. I’ll… see you in class.”

He gives one last polite nod and walks off, his footsteps fading into the low murmur of students around you.

You look up at George, heart still pounding. “What was that?”

He tilts his head, that infuriating grin curling his lips. “Couldn’t resist. You looked like you were having far too much fun talking to him. You shouldn’t have fun without me.”

Your cheeks heat hotter. “George WeasIey!”

He dips his head, capturing your lips again in a softer, teasing peck. “That’s me,” he murmurs against your mouth.

When he finally pulls away for good, you catch your breath and press your back flat against the stone wall behind you. “You’re unbelievable.”

“True,” he says, stepping even closer so that his chest is against yours. “But also, necessary.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Necessary?”

“To make sure there’s no confusion.” His eyes lock onto yours, serious now. “About who you belong to.”